


Closer to the Edge

by avenge_the_angel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Broken!Stiles, Cutting, Depression, Drug Abuse, damaged!Stiles, final words, one sided Sterek, trigger warning, voices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:32:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avenge_the_angel/pseuds/avenge_the_angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles needs to escape. He needs to runaway, but it's a little hard when you can't breathe, can't think. And the entire time all he hears is 'No one cares that you're broken.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer to the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of stories involving depressed and cutting Stiles also involve people jumping in and caring. In my experience, people don't do that. People don't see your scars or find out you're cutting and start caring or try to help you through it. They don't see your scars and think 'Holy Shit! Something's wrong!' They think 'wow, what a loser.' We all know it. So this story handles what happens when people don't care, when you're not an after school special about getting through depression.

Stiles sat back and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath in, allowing the sting to take his mind away. He ran the blade through the cut again, digging deeper, letting the pain wash away every thought that was crowding his mind and suffocating him. He took a few moments to play with the skin around it, smearing the blood around. He took another breath, his mind clearing for the first time that day. He moved the blade upward, starting again, adding a new line to his already impressive gallery. 

He hissed at the initial sting, but fell back into the familiar embrace of pain, wishing he could have more. It was his break from the world, his moment of peace, his clarity in a hazy, dark world. Minutes later, and there were more cuts, more reminders. 

Stiles paused, the blade poised to strike again when he heard the tires of his father’s squad car pulling into the driveway. Sighing, he pulled down his sleeves, the material covering his skin so that the Sheriff would never know what Stiles was doing. He put away his blade, hiding it under his bed, where his father would never search for it. Stiles casually busied himself with his computer, researching something or another for school. Sometimes he could barely keep up with what was going on in that place. 

“What do you want for dinner, kid?” John asked, peeking his head into Stiles’ room. Stiles shrugged, his mind now totally invested on his computer. His dad smiled slightly.

“Well if you think of something better than leftovers, tell me so I can stop eating them.” John said before closing Stiles’ door behind him. Stiles grunted, knowing his dad could no longer hear him. He looked over his shoulder at his door, and took a deep breath in, and let it out. He could feel his anxiety building up, something suffocating him from the inside out, his thoughts screaming at him, while he struggled to keep it all in. 

He took another deep breath, to appease his suffocation. He turned his attention back to his homework, he promised himself that after the homework he would fight off his demons some more. 

***

At school he smiled like nothing was wrong. Because nothing was wrong. Everything was as it always was. He hung with the pack during lunch, and though no one really talked to him anymore that was okay. He had been ignored most of his life, this was nothing new. And when he left to go home, and they all left to go to Derek’s house, no one asked him to come over and hang out with them. Why would they? It was a normal day, and on normal days, no one invited him over. 

Stiles made his way home, and sat in his room, completing his homework, like a good student. When he was finished, he fished underneath his bed for his blade, and started working on his arms again. He was running out of space, but he would contemplate a newer location another day. Right now he still had skin to mutilate. Such a strange, violent word. Mutilate. But isn’t that what it was? Self mutilation? He was destroying his own body. 

Stiles then gave his mind over to the cuts on his arms, the blood seeping down his bicep. He closed his eyes, and his mind to the outside world. And he didn’t hear the knocking on the front door or the ringing of his cell phone. His eyes jerked open when he realized there were other people in his house. He huffed out a breath and slid is sleeve back down over his arm, and left the sanctuary of his room to find out who was in his house. 

“Stiles! I’ve been calling you for ten minutes!” Scott said as Stiles came downstairs. Stiles leaned against the wall, casually, calmly, like he always did. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to my phone. What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be at a pack meeting?” Stiles asked smiling mischievously at Scott. The look he got in return was one of annoyance. 

“Yeah, but Derek is being frustrating and I can’t take it anymore.” Scott grunted out as he flopped onto Stiles’ couch. Stiles smiled and sat by Scott’s feet, ready to listen to his best friends problems. 

“Well isn’t he always?” Stiles asked quirking an eye brow in Scott’s direction. 

Scott nodded and grabbed a pillow, clutching it tightly against his chest. 

“He says that Allison is a distraction. That she’ll just get in the way and be a liability to the pack.” Scott was pouting, Stiles knew Scott’s pouting face, and that was most definitely it.   
Stiles patted his best friend’s knee, his own legs jittering slightly. He couldn’t stay still, could he?

“I would tell you that he’s just a grumpy sour wolf that is plotting the demise of your sexual and social life just for shits and giggles, but I’m scared that he’s standing behind me or can hear me all the way from his house and will kill me at his leisure.” Stiles said giving Scott his best encouraging smile. Scott groaned and threw the pillow over his head. 

“But he is!” Scott whined. Stiles smiled and left to go find something to eat. 

“Toss me a soda.” Scott called from his position of trying to sink into the couch cushions forever. Stiles tossed a soda in his general direction, definitely confident that Scott would catch it. Which he did, by the way. Stiles rummaged around in the fridge before committing to a chocolate pudding cup. He moved back over to where Scott was still trying to become one with the couch and stared obliviously into space. 

“You should go back to the meeting.” Stiles said all of a sudden. Scott jerked his head up and glared at Stiles from the other side of the couch. He couldn’t believe how traitorous his best friend was being. 

“You can’t just skip out on those pack meetings. They’re really important. Derek teaches you guys important things you all need. You’re still learning Scott, go back to the meeting.” Stiles said, though there was no truth behind his statement. He had never been to a pack meeting, he had no idea if it was important or not. 

Scott looked Stiles up and down, sniffed the air, and then frowned. He stared at Stiles for a few moments, as if thinking, but then shrugged whatever it was off, and got up to leave. 

“Thanks, Stiles, you’re amazing. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Stiles smiled back at Scott, and watched him leave. He was alone again. 

“You’d probably be just fine.” Stiles whispered quietly as he walked up the stairs, slowly taking off his shirt as he decided on a new location for his mutilation. 

***

Weeks had passed, nothing interesting was going on. The wolves were keeping to themselves as they always did. They added Danny to their numbers, welcoming him like a long lost brother. Stiles smiled and said congratulations, watching from the side as another member of the lacrosse team became even better overnight, while he continued to watch them from the bench. 

He wasn’t bitter about it. Why should he be? He wasn’t part of the pack; he wasn’t being overlooked for a promotion or anything. And honestly who would believe that Stiles Stilinski could ever be good at lacrosse? So he was more than happy to sit on the sidelines and watch his ‘friends’ achieve so much. 

Okay, so that was a complete lie. He hated it for the most part. He hated how Scott only talked to him when he needed an outside opinion. He never got to see Scott anymore; he was always so busy with the werewolf thing and the pack. When this whole werewolf thing started sophomore year, Stiles thought he and Scott were a package deal for the pack. He was excited because he was going to get a whole new set of friends as well. But, after the thing with the Alpha pack, they kind of weeded him out. Everyone kind of stopped talking to him except when they really needed him for research. 

It was the worst feeling in the world watching your one friend go and have other friends, have another life without you, when in the end, if it hadn’t been for you, they never would have gotten to that point in their life. 

Stiles was the one who decided to go searching for the other half of Laura Hale the night Scott got bit. If it hadn’t been for Stiles, Scott would never have been bit, he would have never joined the pack, and he would be sitting on the bench during lacrosse with Stiles, making fun of those who had to actually be on the team. 

But now Stiles was alone on the bench, watching Scott, and Danny and Isaac and Boyd excel at lacrosse. They were the team stars! Scott a very likely candidate for Captain next year. 

While Stiles would still be on the bench. 

Stiles always smiled and supported Scott. No matter where life took them, he would always support Scott. But deep down, he hated them all. They were a part of something, a part of a family that would never break apart, and Stiles hadn’t even been invited to the party. 

Stiles was depressed with anxiety before the werewolf thing with Scott. But it’s gotten worse and worse over time. Every day, those nagging voices in his head remind him how useless he is, how alone and friendless he is. They remind him that everyone around him thinks he’s worthless and just good for his researching abilities. Not like it’s that hard. You just keep googling til you find something. 

Stiles hates going to school. He gets to see the pack, laughing, making jokes, talking about the last pack meeting. He gets to see everyone else around him having friends, having good times, and yet there he sits, pretending he’s part of the pack, pretending he’s part of something. 

Pretending he doesn’t have a massive crush on Derek. But what would Derek ever like about Stiles? He’s a skinny white boy, who cuts and can’t stand to be alone. Why would brooding gorgeous Derek freaking Hale even begin to like Stiles? He wouldn’t. Derek doesn’t even like the fact that Stiles exists. 

No one knows how he really feels. No one knows that there are scars and cuts all along his arms. No one understands how deep he’s in it. Because no one cares. No one cares that he’s broken. 

***

“Stiles, the pack needs your help.” Derek’s rough growl cut through his dreams one night. Stiles opened one eye, wishing he wasn’t part of the pack. Oh wait, he wasn’t. He was just their research monkey. 

Sitting up, Stiles shook his head, hoping he would rid his mind of those stupid thoughts. They were always crowding his mind, reminding him how lonely and useless he was. That he was only ever good to those werewolves so long as he kept up his research of all things supernatural. Stiles shook his head again, rubbing his eyes as well this time. He couldn’t think like that. Not when there wasn’t any chance for an escape in the near future. 

“So what’s terrorizing the town this time?” Stiles asked making his way to his computer to turn it on. He kept his voice down because he wasn’t sure if his father was home or at work. 

“We’re not sure actually.” Derek mumbled angrily. He did that a lot. 

“Okay, well what’s going on?” Stiles asked powering up his preferred web browser. 

“People are disappearing, there are no bodies turning up, and no pattern to the missing. We’ve had no warning signs and nothing is strange on the preserve.” Stiles wanted to ring the Alpha’s neck. There was absolutely nothing specific about that assessment at all. It could be a million and one things. 

“Anything out of the ordinary at all in the town? Especially if it seemingly has nothing to do with the disappearances.” Stiles asked, turning over his shoulder and looking at Derek. Derek looked he was thinking pretty hard, his brow furrowing in deep concentration. 

“I don’t know. I’ll ask the pack and get back to you. In the meantime, just keep looking for things it could be.” Derek hesitated a moment or two, looking Stiles over, before retreating through the window. Stiles sighed and climbed back onto his bed. There was no way he could figure out what it was, til he had more than disappearing humans and no bodies to speak of. 

***

When Stiles awoke again, Derek was sitting beside his bed, his frown visible in the dark. He wasn’t staring at anything in particular, just staring. 

“I know you’re awake.” Derek said quietly. 

“What are you doing in my room?” Stiles asked, rolling onto his back. Derek looked down at him, and sniffed the air. His frown deepened, and Stiles felt slightly offended. What smelled so bad that it had Derek looking like that?!

“I talked to the pack. Isaac said that all of the victims knew Neela Gregory one way or another, and they had all pissed her off. Turns out she’s a centuries old sorceress who was using people she disliked to keep herself young. We took care of it. Quick stab with a wooden stake to the heart and she disappeared in a cloud of dust, never to walk the Earth as a physical form again. Though she may come back to haunt our families in a century or two. Depends how pissed she is.” Derek said crossing his arms over his chest. Stiles nodded and kept staring the ceiling. 

So they didn’t need him after all. What a relief, he was finally feeling useful. What a terrible feeling it was, too.

There was a few seconds of awkward silence. There was nothing for Stiles to say. ‘Well thanks for telling me I’m still useless?’ ‘Thank you for at least telling me something?’ ‘You wanna have sex before you go back to ignoring me?’ There was nothing Stiles could say that wouldn’t get his throat ripped out. 

“Well… um…. Thank you for keeping me in the loop.” Stiles mumbled quietly, wishing Derek would just leave. It was bad enough he had to deal with the rest of the pack ignoring him, it was another thing when Derek was practically flaunting the fact that they were all werewolves and didn’t need to depend on weak, fragile humans. 

“Right, yeah. Umm. Well, night.” Derek was gone before Stiles could return the pleasantry. Stiles rolled over to his side again, and dragged his blade out from underneath the bed. Everything was a bit too loud for him. So he dragged his finger across the sharp edge and closed his eyes as the skin parted, and allowed the blood to drip slowly from his finger onto a towel he had ready. 

Stiles knew the range of smell on werewolves. He and Scott had tested it out when they figured out what was going on with Scott. He knew Derek could smell the blood. A part of Stiles wanted Derek to know. He wanted to know that maybe there was somebody that cared. But Stiles knew he was being stupid. Who would care that Stiles Stilinski was hurt or depressed? Who would care that he was being self-destructive just to forget momentarily how much he hated himself? Who would ever care about someone who was so bruised and broken and damaged as Stiles? No one, that’s who.

***

Every few weeks, Derek would come back with another problem. Sometimes he would give vague problems that could be anything, sometimes he had something important that led Stiles down the right path. Still no one really talked to him. More wolves were added to the pack, eventually it was a pretty decent size. And Stiles was still just the human who helped with research. 

The end of Junior year was fast approaching, and so was prom. Stiles was really hoping for a magical night, and wanted to go with a certain model-like man, but wasn’t sure about how to do so. He tried to talk to Scott about maybe going in on a limo together, but he had already helped with a deposit on one already. When Stiles asked if he could get in on it, Scott mumbled about how it was a wolf thing and they were probably gonna be doing other things after prom and couldn’t risk it with him and blah blah blah blah. 

Stiles smiled and said it was all good, said he understood, reassured Scott it was totally cool. And when Stiles got home he reassured himself that there was always Senior prom. He told himself everything would be better next year, sliding his blade across his skin, promising himself that he would find some friends that would actually count him as a friend. He kept cutting deeper, kept cutting in different places, kept trying to chase the noise from his mind. But it’s been harder and harder to chase away the ghosts and demons in his mind. It’s been harder and harder to give everything over to the pain.

He had to find a new way to forget, a new way to let go. 

***

Four weeks left of school, and Stiles was done caring. He had been done for a while, but he had at least pretended. He had kept up with his homework, and paid attention. He just didn’t really want to be there. But now he was done. He was never really there anyway, his mind taken over by the drugs he was on. Usually it was some pharmaceutical he had gotten from some kid at another school, but he occasionally got heroin or acid, just in case of bad days. 

He didn’t even try with the pack any more. Scott hadn’t talked to him since April, and Derek was no longer coming to his room every few weeks with another problem. He sat in the library or outside to eat lunch, alone. When he would walk to his car after school, he would see Derek waiting for Isaac and Boyd. Derek would watch him, his expression unreadable by Stiles. But he would shrug it off and leave it be. 

But on that day, four weeks exactly until summer vacation, Derek didn’t watch from his car. Instead he saw Stiles, sniffed the air, then made a bee line for Stiles. He had timed it perfectly so that he and Stiles would meet at his car at exactly the same time. 

Stiles thought Derek was just going to ask him for more research, but was surprised when Derek threw him against the car. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Derek growled out. Stiles stared at Derek, not even scared. 

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked.

“I can smell it on you Stiles. Drugs change the way you smell. Why the hell are you doing drugs?” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I need them? Why would I take drugs I don’t need?” Stiles was lying, but not really. He needed them so he would stop feeling worthless, so he would no longer hate everything about himself. He wasn’t lying, not really. 

“You need Oxytocin?” Derek asked in disbelief. It wasn’t so much disbelief as sassy mistrust.

“Yes, I do.” Stiles was really hoping there was a point to this conversation, because he was currently working off fumes and he didn’t have any more with him. And in recent days it was dangerous to be without his release, the voices were louder, more persistent with their assessment of his value or lack thereof.

“Something’s going on with you Stiles. I don’t know what it is, but things are different and I don’t like it.” Derek turned and stalked back to his car. 

“Well you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be around much longer.” Stiles knew Derek could hear him, but the brooding Alpha didn’t turn around, didn’t even glance over his shoulder. It only confirmed what the voices in Stiles’ head had been telling him all along. Nobody gave a single fuck what happened to him, he was worthless and pathetic, and could disappear right now for all anyone cared. 

Stiles got in his jeep, and started the car, knowing the tears were coming. It happened more and more. The tears, the wishing he could just man up and end it. But he never did. He was stupid and a pussy and resorted to drugs and cutting to try to make it all go away. A temporary fix for a permanent issue. 

Stiles reached his house with barely enough time. He sat in his room, the tears still fresh on his cheeks as the voices screamed at him. 

YOU’RE SO WORTHLESS! NO ONE WOULD GIVE A SHIT IF YOU JUST CROAKED. NO ONE CARES, SO WHY DON’T YOU?! JUST GO DIE YOU USELESS SACK OF SHIT! DEREK DOESN’T CARE WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU! NO ONE NEEDS YOU, NO ONE WANTS YOU AROUND. YOU CAN’T EVEN GET SOME LONELY ASS IDIOT TO LIKE YOU. WHAT’S THE POINT OF STICKING AROUND IF NO ONE WANTS TO BE WITH YOU?! 

But maybe someone will like me.

WHO COULD EVER LIKE YOU? WHO COULD EVER LOVE YOU? YOU’RE AN EMO KID, WITH SCARS ON HIS ARMS BECAUSE HE’S NOT TOUGH ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH REAL LIFE. YOU’RE JUST SOME WHINY EMO KID, WHO COULD EVER LOVE SOME STUPID FUCK LIKE YOU?!

you’re right. 

Damn straight we’re right. GO DIE YOU USELESS JOKE. 

Stiles swallowed one pill, two pill, three pill. And the numbness returned. The voices faded away, he could think again, he could breathe again. He closed his eyes, knowing he couldn’t keep doing this. He couldn’t keep pretending everything was alright; he couldn’t keep up this charade of being relatively okay. 

Stiles stared at his reflection in the mirror. He wasn’t entirely sure how he got into the bathroom, or when he even got up off the floor. His face looked wrong. It looked normal, his eyes didn’t reflect the hatred he felt for himself, or the broken feeling he always felt inside. His eyes were blank, glossed over by the Oxy and maybe something else. The world was blurring at the edges and that was okay, as long as his head remained quiet and purely his, it would be okay. 

His eyes kept slipping. He wanted to sleep. How wonderful did that sound? To sleep and never wake up? To never have to deal with anything else? Stiles laid down on the ground and fell asleep. A cool calm floating over him, his mind at ease. For the first time in a while, he smiled, a real smile. 

***

Stiles woke up to his own coughing. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but for some reason his body needed to cough. He was still on his bathroom floor and everything was pitch black. The door was shut, and the light was off. He opened the door and was greeted by bright sunlight. Stiles stumbled over to his bed, where his phone lay discarded.   
When he clicked a button, the phone read May 3, 2014. 10:46 am. 

Huh. Wasn’t yesterday May 1? A day and a half. He checked his phone. No missed calls, no text messages, nothing from Facebook. No important emails either. Stiles felt sick. How had he let things get like this? How had he allowed his life to become so empty that no one noticed when he was gone? Stiles knew his dad wouldn’t have noticed. The Sheriff was away on a vacation. A high school reunion was coming up and a friend of his was getting married. The Sheriff wasn’t due to return for another two weeks. Stiles went downstairs and grabbed something to eat. 

It’s amazing how hungry you are after you sleep for a day and a half straight. Stiles made food then sat down in front of the television. He watched his favorite Sherlock episode, and then followed with his favorite episode of each Doctor. He went upstairs, his body numb, his head screaming with pain. He closed his blinds, cleaned up his room a little. 

He was tired. 

***

John Stilinski found his son two weeks later. No one is sure why he did it. No one knew anything was even wrong. But isn’t that how it always is?

Written in blood on the mirror was a final message that Stiles left for the waking world:

Sometimes the bully is you.

**Author's Note:**

> The voices Stiles heard are not schizophrenia voices. I'm honestly not sure what they are.   
> My friend hears voices when she is depressed. The voices Stiles hears are actually what she hears on an almost daily basis. Everything about Stiles' mental health, I took from her.


End file.
